Cruel Zinc Melodies Read Free

theater under construction. The World. It'll put three or four different shows on at the same time.”
    Max the innovator. How would he do that?
    Tinnie interjected, “They'll have staggered starting times. Each play will show three times a day.”
    “Tinnie, please!” Alyx whined.
    So Max had found a way to move a lot more Weider beer. I gave Alyx a nudge. “The problem you need solved is?”
    “Sabotage.”
    Tinnie explained, “It’s actually kind of petty but somebody keeps getting in and breaking things.”
    “Criminals? Trying to shake him down?” That’s how the protection racket starts.
    Most crooks are smart enough to steer clear. Max Weider is rich. And doesn’t scruple in a fight. He'll play fair, businesswise, but try strong-arming him and there’s an excellent chance somebody less personable than me will help you get started on an attempt to swim across the river. With granite in your undies.
    Not even the Contagues, the emperors of TunFaire crime, would risk making a run at Max Weider. Unless the payoff prospects were beyond my ability to imagine.
    Near as I can tell, all hands are happy with the status quo. Possibly excepting the law-and-order extremists at Watch and Guard headquarters in the Al-Khar.
    Alyx chewed her lower lip fetchingly. Reluctantly, she said, “Maybe. But there’s, like, ghosts, too. And bugs.”
    “Ghosts?” Just thinking out loud. Ghosts happen, but I hadn’t run into any recently. The residual personality haunting the Eleanor painting being the last. “It’s the wrong time of year for bugs.” Unless you kept your house too warm. Which nobody can afford to do. Other than on the Hill.
    Around here we can see our breath in the winter. Except in the kitchen. And in the Dead Man’s room when we have company.
    “Tell that to the bugs, big boy.”
    “Tinnie?”
    “It’s all hearsay to me. I haven’t been to the site.”
    “Ladies?” Bobbi and Lindy were content to sit quietly and elevate the temperature of the room. The Dead Man offered no remarks. Singe sat in the corner with her dim candle, working her books.
    Her rat eyes do let us save on lighting costs.
    Tinnie took the opportunity to apply a pinch meant to keep me focused.
    Alyx admitted, “What I’m telling you is hearsay to me, too. Daddy won’t let me go to the construction site.”
    Tinnie observed, “He doesn’t want her associating with the kind of guys who work construction.”
    I snickered. “That’s because he started out as that kind of guy himself. So. Alyx. What do you want? Other than to indulge in one of your special efforts to get Tinnie mad at me?”
    “Daddy wants to talk to you about what’s going on.”
    Max has been good to me. His retainer, meant to inhibit floor loss and general misconduct at the brewery, has kept me solvent through numerous dry spells.
    “Can I catch a ride?”
    “We’re not headed home. We’re going to Tinnie? s. To rehearse.”
    They had a play already?
    Tinnie said, “No, we’re going to the manufactory. There’s more room. And more privacy. The walk will do you good.”
    “I’m so pleased you’re always looking out for me.”
    “You’re very special to me.”
    “What if I slip on a patch of ice?” She was right. It had been a long winter and I’d spent most of it avoiding going outside.
    “I'll bring fresh flowers, lover.”
    Dean finally wandered in, armed with refreshments. Two steps into the room he froze. His jaw dropped.
    He’s old. Around seventy, I’d guess. He’s skinny, shows a lot of bushy white hair this year, and has dark eyes that can twinkle with mischief. On rare occasions. More often they’re alive with disapproval.
    “Damn!” I murmured. “The old goat is human.”
    Tinnie wasn’t his problem. He sees her all the time. And he knows Alyx. He’s never anything but polite when she’s around. But the other two...
    He pulled it together before he turned into a creepy old man. “Good afternoon, Miss Tate. Miss Weider.